


Tom and His Demons

by MelfinaLupin



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, M/M, Relationship(s), Sexual Content, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-07 02:21:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1881465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelfinaLupin/pseuds/MelfinaLupin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas and Asmodeus’ relationship is tested when certain events from Thomas’ past come to light, and Belphegor is forced out of Hell to reside in Brighton.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to Tom and the Demon.

Over the centuries, Belphegor developed the knack of sleeping through anything be it the rumble of distant battles or his siblings’ insufferable company. But a storm, especially one whipped up by Levi when she was in a particularly foul mood, never allowed him a decent respite. The blinding brilliance of lightening woke him before the rippling crack of thunder made him growl from the depths of his disheveled cocoon.

“She must be joking,” he hissed as he slid off the mattress with nothing but a blanket to keep him warm as he sulked on the floor. His hair hung in a mess in his eyes. His mouth was sour and parched. Bleary-eyed, he tried to get his bearing but it felt as though his head was full of cob webs. He gave up when silence descended and ended up dozing against the mattress.  

He should have known better. Levia was never that considerate and another crash of thunder resounded, louder than the previous one. He bolted straight up with his heart trying to jump out of his chest. His breath rattled out of his chest and carried little whimpers that he didn’t want to acknowledge. Enough was enough. Shaking, he crawled over to the grimy fireplace and pitched a tiny fireball into it while grumbling for his sister. The fire sputtered upon the tinder and soon a face appeared though it was one Belphegor was not expecting.

He huddled further inside his woolen cocoon. “You are not my sister, Agares. Let me talk to Levia.”

The orange flames of the fire couldn’t properly display the soft expression of the duke but his words were a gentle murmur when he spoke. “I’m sorry, but she’s preoccupied at the moment, your royal highness.”

There were many things in the world Belphegor disliked, and loud things were on the top of that very long list. Damn it to hell. Levia knew that and continued regardless. His temper flared, momentarily giving life to his otherwise pallid comportment. “She’s preoccupied with making a bloody racket,” he blindly countered in the hopes the ruse would conceal the quiver in his voice. “Kindly tell her to shut up. I’m trying to sleep.”

 “I’ll pass the word along.”

“You’d better.”

The flames quickly burnt out and the bond was lost. He held little hope that the storm would quell anytime soon and made the impulsive decision to flee though it made him feel as pathetic as a child. The storm still raged but the vile noise was stifled by the impenetrable stone walls of Mammon’s palace. He skulked in the corner of his sister’s bedroom, shrouded in shadow, and watched Mammon, beautiful and ancient, lounge upon a throne of pillows. Here there were no siblings to keep in line or demons to order. Her black armor and sword were exchanged for a nightgown of silk and a book. She looked utterly serene as she read with her long black curls flowing down her shoulders to rest like ribbons upon the bed. He hated to disturb her like this but he hated feeling scared even more. Belphegor bit his lower lip and felt hot tears spring into his eyes.

Mammon looked up, her blue eyes flashing in the soft candlelight, and extended her troubled visitor a tender smile. Out of all her siblings, Belphegor was the only one she treated with care. She closed her book and patted the space beside her. That was all the encouragement he needed to launch himself across the room and into his sister’s arm.

“Levia’s being stupid,” he complained into Mammon’s lap as she soothed his messy locks. He could hear the thunder ring in his ears and he desperately wished it would stop. He wished the sound would stop reminding him of a long lost war and subsequent banishment from the only home he ever loved. They were foul memories that troubled him like a festering wound. He clung tighter to his older sister and hoped she would not see the tears streaking his face though she no doubt felt them dampen her gown.

Mammon clicked her tongue is disapproval. “You know you’ve nothing to fear, little one,” she spoke softly. “The storm is far away and nothing can harm you now.”

“Sometimes I feel as though it is right at my doorstep,” he admitted softly. “A little shove is all I need to be caught in the eye of the storm with no way out.”

“You’re tired,” Mammon cooed as she drew a cover over Belphegor. “Sleep now. It will be better in the morning, my love. I promise.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sequel to Tom and His Demons

_England, 1842_

After braving the winds of the punishing blizzard, the warmth within red brick mansion atop the bluffs of Brighton was gratefully received by the masters of the house. Fortunately the howling of the wind was greatly diminished when the heavy oak door was forcefully closed. It was a true comfort to be home at last however Thomas was far too cold to enjoy the relief. A powerful storm had blown in from the North. It carried a biting chill as well as a torrent of inescapable snow to the coastline of England, and the usually mild climate inevitably surrendered under the weight of the tenacious snowstorm.

Thomas burrowed further inside his thick overcoat and knitted scarf, desperately trying to warm up, when strong arms caught hold of him. Thick whiskers tickled his ruddy cheek, and a rush of excitement made his stomach knot pleasantly. Suddenly all thoughts of the abysmal weather were no more. He smiled behind the scarf that concealed half his face from view as he felt Asmodeus’ big frame effortlessly eclipse his own. While he was considered taller than average, it was not an unusual occurrence to feel inconsequential in the company of the giant demon.

Warm arm lips teased the shell of his ear when Asmodeus asked in a voice full of humor, “Are you going to come out of your cocoon, love?”

“I’m cold.”

Asmodeus made a soft sound of consolation as he craftily unraveled his lover’s knit wrap. “I shall warm you,” he purred, pressing a small kiss onto a beguiling patch of skin. His voice was a deep, rich rumble that made Thomas’ instinctively bit his lower lip, and at the risk of appearing too shameless, contemplated asking Asmodeus if he would like to continue with his sweet kisses there in the foyer. Propriety had been stanchly but unhappily observed within Emma’s home, rendering the stretch of time between dusk and dawn quite miserable for the lovers. Within the privacy of their home Thomas’ heart gave a tremendous shudder now that he was once more the sole recipient of Asmodeus’ undivided attention, and felt quiet overwhelmed and unsure of how to conduct himself.

Asmodeus rested heavily against him, using his shoulder as a shelf for his chin. “You’re too quiet,” the demon groused with a pout puckering his bottom lip.  “I missed you.”

Joy made Thomas cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink but embarrassment made his words discharge indelicately. “Miss me? How can you miss me when you’ve been my constant companion this past fortnight?”

His facetiousness earned him a quick swat to his backside. “Between your nephew demanding your attention and your brother’s cordial dislike of me, I felt unbearably neglected.”

With his thin-veiled animosity and his chilly civility, most would have considered the elder brother’s behavior a blatant warning. With Asmodeus it only inspired the blandest of nonchalance. Though he was certain Matthew had deduced the lovers’ relationship just like Emma had, he never revealed the extent of his suspicion to anyone and returned to London with his censure unspoken. Asmodeus was grateful for his discretion. The moment Thomas was made aware of Emma’s perspicacity he turned his bedchamber into a refuge where he remained for the entirety of the afternoon. The instinct to tear down the door and the wish to grant Thomas his privacy tore at Asmodeus until Emma appeared with a tray of tea. A few quietly spoke words bartered her passage into the chamber and the demon was left to skulk away with the hope that she could placate Thomas. He had no knowledge of what was said between the siblings, but since Thomas appeared at dinner that evening, the demon didn’t feel the need to pester his overwrought lover.

“You are far too old to be acting so spoiled, sir,” Thomas rebuked halfheartedly, turning around in Asmodeus’ arms so that he could tug playfully on his dark wind-swept locks. Brilliant blue eyes gazed down at him, alit with mirth and tacit gentleness. “Teddy is six-years-old, and my brother should bear no you ill will when he has no cause to do so.”

A raffish smirk dawned. “I beg to disagree with the latter account.”

“You must have done something to upset him,” Thomas interpolated innocently. The thought that Emma could have divulged the nature of his peculiar relationship with Asmodeus to Matt didn’t occur to him. Emma had given her word that she would be the sole guardian of their secret after all, and his trust in her was implicit.

Thomas’ infinite reserve of naivety no longer surprised Asmodeus. “I’ll have you know, sir, that I was perfectly well-mannered,” he protested. “Neither your dear mama nor Emma had any qualms about my company. Even Teddy was fond of me.”

“That’s because you snuck him sweets at bedtime, and I’m certain Matt regards you warmly. You did go riding together.”

“I couldn’t very well cry off like you did,” Asmodeus teased, gaining a sheepish smile from Thomas. “But that is all in the past. Be a dear, and let me kiss you before I go mad.”

Cheeks stained pink, Thomas lifted his countenance dutifully and received an overdue kiss from his lover. After withholding so long the pleasure the simple kiss could engender was as remarkable as it was thrilling. His heart quickened as Asmodeus crowded over him to cradle his face, fingers lost amidst his flaxen curls, and kissed him like a starved man. Thomas slumped forward helplessly, gripping his lover’s coat, and happily gave into his desire. Shyness melted away and the kiss deepened. It wasn’t until his brain was a sluggish jumble that he broke away.

“I see that you’ve missed me as well,” Asmo commented softly. “Shall we retire to the bedroom?”

The tip of Thomas’ tongue peeked out to moisten his lower lip. Asmodeus tracked its progress, desperate to trace it with his own. “The sitting room is closer.”

His dark eyebrows shot up. “Oh my, that’s very debauched of you.”

“It’s not debauched. We’ve brandy and a fireplace in there.”

Ianthe Hall was bereft of the usual legion of household staff most would have considered indispensable for such a large and well-kept estate. So with no prying eyes to watch them, the two traveled to one of the more intimate chambers situated behind the stately saloon. With its impossibly high ceiling, thick stone columns, and the darkened gallery above, the stately area constantly succeeded in intimidating Thomas. He much preferred the snug atmosphere found within the confines of the sitting room. It was decadently comfortable, well stocked with leather chairs and sofas that had been rearranged to accommodate a decorated sapling of an evergreen; plush oriental rugs protected feet from the chilly floor, and thick red curtains framed the tall windows that overlooked a wintry sea. It smelled of the cigars Asmodeus was fond of smoking after dinner and the Christmas garland that was added for the season upon Thomas’ insistence. An expertly carved stone fireplace dominated the wall opposite of the entrance and was flanked by shelves that creaked under the weight of books and knickknacks philtered from Asmodeus’ palace.

“Do you really think it was wise to let Maurice manage our luggage?” Thomas questioned. His blue eyes had flashed to the whited out window and lingered. His brow wrinkled on concern as he thought of the sole servant. With indefatigable skill, Maurice single-handedly operated the household affairs without fault but the conditions hounded Thomas with uncertainty.

 “Do you doubt his ability, love?” asked Asmodeus from the chamber’s sideboard. The tinkering of crystal was promising and Thomas looked forward to the blushing warmth only liquor could produce.

“Normally I would not, Asmo, but the weather is so foul, and both Mama and Emma were exceptionally generous to the both of us.”

“Maurice will take your worry as an insult, dear,” Asmodeus patiently reminded him.

Thomas held his tongue, electing to say no more about the matter, and settle onto a large chair after shedding his coat. He was shivering beneath a blanket that he was happy to share when Asmodeus arrived with crystal tumblers half-filled with amber liquid. They were set aside for safe keeping while the lovers rearranged their limbs beneath the blanket so that they could sit comfortably upon the wide lounge chair with their legs propped upon an ottoman. The narrow space meant that Thomas sat with a heavy arm about his shoulder but he didn’t rebut the intimacy, but gently stroked Asmodeus thigh with his left hand as he sipped his drink in the agreeable silence. The brandy warmed his belly and made his eyelids heavier than he would have liked. So he placed his head upon his lovers’ shoulder and closed his eyes, nestling closer to the large, warmer body, and felt quite content.

Thomas couldn’t see the tenderness softening his lover’s features but it was present in the kiss pressed softly into his curls and the whispered “Are you still cold?” that followed.

Thomas wiggled his toes tentatively. “I fear that my toes are.”

With a wave of his hand, a fire flared up behind hearth’s filigreed grate. The demon faced Thomas and was pleased to find the young man attentive once more. Thomas gave a shy smile, one that gently pulled the corners of his mouth so that his sharp cheekbones were accentuated beneath rosy flesh, and it was utterly impossible to resist such a sweet expression.

I really could eat him up, Asmodeus thought, but kissing would be preferable. Gently seizing his lover’s the curls, he leaned over to place a firm kiss upon the beguiling mouth. A quiet hum filled the air upon contact and Thomas’ arms found their way around the demon’s waist to anchor their bodies together. The long fingers in his hair tightened and his head was dragged back in favor of better positioning. A trembling moan parted Thomas’ lips, allowing the demon the opportunity to lick and taste indulgently. Excitement warmed Thomas’ body from the inside out, and he readily held onto the heavy thigh that pinned him to the chair.

When his lips began to ache from overuse, Thomas escaped, but caught as he was between his lover’s body and the chair, his freedom was checked. “I own that I am quite warm now.”  

Asmodeus looked amused. “Am I to be you own personal furnace?”

“You’re doing I remarkable job of it, dear,” was the sweet reply. Thomas meant to put a stop to their romp then and there. It was horribly inappropriate to misuse the sitting room like so but Asmodeus looked so devilishly handsome that Thomas’ modesty faltered. His hands stroked the broad chest swathed in cotton and silk that hid his lover’s stalwart physique, and eventually he began to pick at the buttons of lover’s olive green waistcoat. The demon smiled, patiently suffered his lover’s deliberate pace, and stooped over, bringing their foreheads together, as Thomas triumphed over his lover’s mulish linen. The tips of chilled fingers traced faint lines and circles over overly warm skin indulgently, and big questioning eyes often dithered back and forth, seeking approval. Asmodeus’ patience was thoroughly tested.  He reached up to rapidly loosen his cravat, knowing the elaborate knot would only serve to confuse Thomas, while his own inexorable desire began to rouse.

“For one so vulnerable to the weather, I thought you would have left England years ago,” he murmured inattentively as a way to distract himself while he grew steadily harder from Thomas’ sweet treatment.

 “I was in Italy for six years,” Thomas quietly pointed out, fixated on freeing more buttons. They were long and arduous years, devoted entirely to study and prayer within the aged stone walls of the seminary, but they were also years where Thomas never felt happier.

“That weather is not much of an improvement.” Asmodeus’ humor induced his mouth to make a wick smirk and an eyebrow to arch, and it ruined Thomas’ control. By now the demon’s shirt and waistcoat was thoroughly undone and the quivering sinewy of Asmodeus’ throat was begging to be kissed. “At least I didn’t have to contend with blizzards,” he complained, trailing his lips across smooth, warm flesh at his leisure as if making up for the times when such a luxury had been forbidden. “Besides a priest seldom has the income or the time for holidays abroad.”

Eyes half-lidded in pleasure, Asmodeus seemed in no mood to end the innocuous exploration though the leather of the chair protested under his white-knuckled grip. “But you are no longer a priest,” he whispered. He loved that particular string of words upon his lips for it sounded so very naughty.

“You love to remind me of that fact especially in the middle of the night when you know I have to get up early.”

Asmo’s laughter filled the room before he pressed a kiss onto the top of Thomas’ head. “It’s very diverting to remind you. I’d hate for you to forget.”

“Then I must thank you for your concern. It must be quite the burden.” Fingers inched downwards at an agonizingly slow pace and even though he knew what was in store, a low groan nevertheless rumbled in Asmodeus’ chest when he felt Thomas touch him through the tight fitted fabric of his trousers.

“It is,” Asmodeus purred, bucking into the light touch, “but you make it worth my time.”

Nimble fingers expertly unbuttoned the fly of Asmodeus’ pants and he heaved a guttural moan when his cock sprung forth, alert and rosy-tipped. Though he often had to resort to using his own hands to take the edge of his desire while within Emma’s home, he preferred Thomas’ soft touch. Several pumps later rendered his member swollen and ridged, and he urged Thomas’ head backwards again so he could nip at his thin, pink lips. “My patience grows then,” he growled.

Thomas continued to stroke him, thumbing his head gratuitously and encouraging beads of spunk to seep out. “Do you want my hands or my mouth, Asmo?” The boy sounded as desperate for breathe as he was. Asmodeus head swam and he swore ungentlemanly. “I mind not which method you employ. Just make me come.”

“Yes, my dear sir,” Thomas coyly replied, and continued to touch him until Asmodeus was bowing slack-jawed and grunting over his lover. His hips bucked into the tight, warm aperture Thomas’ hands created while his neck was sufficiently sucked and kissed. Every fiber within begged for release, and he happily succumbed to his lover’s touch.

When the pleasure crested, his body stiffened as a feral groan ripped at his throat. Rutting mindlessly, droplets of pearly white semen spattered between their bodies. Bliss descended like a blanket and left him feeling foolishly weak. Panting laboriously, he kept most of his weight from him lover by bracing his arms on the back the chair and watched a blushing, coyly smiling Thomas continue to touch his thick prick though his grip had relaxed now. Asmodeus remedied that for it felt too soon for the lust to cool in his veins. He reached for Thomas’ trousers and found his selfless lover hard and wanting. With gasps and softly begged words filling the crowded vicinity, he rubbed both their lengths until he spent a second time to the sound of Thomas’ stuttering moans of his own release.

The swift accumulation of pleasure and its equally quick release made their limbs tremble as their lungs burned for air. The aftermath was quickly rid and their positions were reversed so that Asmodeus could hold his lover into his arms.  The blanket was once more pulled up around their bodies, and Thomas lounged, lethargic but happy, against his lover’s chest while his back was tenderly caressed.

“I’m sorry, Asmo, but I seemed to have forgotten what we were talking about,” Thomas spoke up quietly when his composure had resurfaced after a spell.

“I was about to ask you if you’d fancy going on a trip before you accosted me.”

 Thomas immediately stilled.  “A trip?” Thomas echoed faintly, confusing crumpling his brow. “When?”

“Now of course. We could go anywhere in the world if you’d like but I’m preferable to a hotter locale than what we are experiencing right now. I’ve never been too keen on snow. Can you imagine a beach with hot, white sand and crystal blue water?”

Being quite finished with Asmodeus’ repartee, Thomas sat up straighter so that he could look him in the eye. “Are you gamming me?”

The demon gave him a little wink. “You may think of it as your Christmas present.”

“I thought you said it would be uncouth for a demon to participate in Christmas.”

Asmodeus suddenly gave a bark of laughter, remembering that white lie. “I only said that so you wouldn’t drag me to church at midnight, love. I cannot fathom a more odious way to spend a night even if I tried.”

Asmodeus’ smile was too disarmingly charming for Thomas to be offended. “You’re awful,” he said without conviction. “But I’m glad you said that for I do have a present in mind for you.”

Mild intrigue clouded Asmodeus’ eyes and the flush returned to Thomas’ cheeks with renewed vigor.   When the young man remained reticent, stubborn fingers began to tickle him until the truth was wrought free. “Come now, love,” Asmodeus encouraged. “Don’t keep a prince waiting. How will you spoil your demon?”

Thomas trapped the offending hands in his own and held them tight while he tried to choose his words carefully. “I had a notion to buy you something at first but I reconsidered after some thought. You have the ability to have anything you want appear before you with a snap of your fingers so you are never in want of things.” Asmodeus looked insufferably smug at the moment as though he accepted the truth as praise instead. Thomas licked his lips and took a deep breath to calm his racing heart. He looked down at the hands he held and murmured very softly, “I thought it would be better if I indulged you a little in lieu of a trinket.”

Asmodeus’ attention was unmistakably caught. “That sounds promising,” he purred. “Go on.”

Thomas dawdled a moment, indecisive and wonderfully coy under the heat of Asmodeus’ watch. “I thought I would pander to one of your desires if you still have one that you’ve not yet corrupted me with.” Thomas was not an admirer of the sudden look of hunger in Asmodeus’ eyes and his bravado withered. His shoulders began to fold inwards and he promptly said, “Even now I can acknowledge that I’ve spoken out of turn.”

Asmodeus leaned forward and caught Thomas’ face within his hands. His touch was as gentle as his words were reassuring. “Why, darling? It’s a perfectly lovely and generous present. Thank you.” The kiss he gave Thomas demanded nothing in return. “Would it be terribly forward of me if I asked for my present now?”

Thomas’ laugh was sheepish. “Yes, you lecherous scoundrel. I would like to know more about the trip you’ve proposed. When do you wish to leave? How long will we be gone?”

“A couple of days, and we can leave as soon as you wish.”

Thomas sat still and pondered the extravagant possibility as he nibbled his lower lip. Though the idea was as shockingly spontaneous, he did have another week until his tutorial duties resumed. Asmo smiled and watched the delight dally in Thomas’ eyes. “I’ve never been anywhere exotic before. Will you take us there? Won’t it be dangerous?”

“I have no intention of plunking us in the middle of a desert, dear,” Asmo laughed, running his hands up and down Thomas’ arms in the event his lover found his candor too harsh. “It will be nice, relaxing, and above all else, warm.”


	3. Chapter 3

Driven by his fantastical whim, Asmodeus took them to paradise. Thomas had no other words to describe where they had been transported, and ogled the beautiful landscape in silence, a look of awed wonderment on his face. The cold wind and snow of England suddenly felt like a vague memory as golden sunlight poured onto a cerulean ocean that languidly lapped at the warm, yellow shore. He spun around to behold the lush flora flourishing at the edge of the beach. The deep emerald green of the vegetation blanketed the terrain, generously speckled with explosions of colors from flowers Thomas had never before seen. Slender trees of impossible height loomed overhead, their massive palm leaves swaying gently in the balmy wind.

“This is paradise,” he breathed reverently at last.

If Asmodeus had been told long ago that the happiness of a mortal would eventually go hand in hand with his own he would have been the most ardent of cynics. Now his heart was bursting with immeasurable joy at the delight he saw in Thomas’ face. Knowing that he was the one who placed it there made him quite smug.

“Yes, well, I’m rather fond of it,” Asmodeus responded in kind. The tropical beauty paled in comparison to the lovely mortal at his side so he happily kept his eyes steadfastly upon his lover.

Unlike the demon, it felt as though a deep fissure was dividing Thomas’ attention. He simply didn’t know where to look first until he noticed a rustic bungalow further down the beach. It was handsomely sized, nestled snuggly at the edge of the jungle, with a thatched roof and a wide, encasing veranda that would no doubt offer an unparalleled view of the calm ocean. It seemed a good place as any to begin their exploration. “Is that to be our residence?”

Asmodeus’ pleased smile only grew deeper. “Naturally.”

Thomas wrung his hands excitedly, looking younger than his true age of three and twenty, and seemed mere moments away from bouncing on his heels if forced to stay still for much longer. “I would like to see it.”

“We’ve a beach and a jungle to ourselves and you want to go inside?” But Thomas had already started toward the hut so Asmodeus assumed that his acerbity had gone unnoticed. The sharp glance tossed his way told Asmodeus that was not the case.  “One little peek will not impede our holiday by much,” he rationalized. “I’d like to put away our valises before they collect any sand as well.”

Asmodeus’ gentle chuckle was carried on the breeze as the two traversed the shoreline towards their provisional residence. Wide steps led up to the main entrance and the sun baked wood cracked beneath their weight as they stepped inside. Inside the chamber was sprawling and airy with a vaulted ceiling and warm wood floors. A wonderfully soft looking bed occupied a large portion of the interior. There was a tall wardrobe shoved against the wall, and the floor was littered with dozens of squat candles should the nighttime darkness be kept at bay. There was a single door off to the left, and Thomas assumed it led to the water closet. However the practicalities were suddenly the least of his concerns as his attention was caught by the remarkable view.  Gasping involuntarily, he put aside his valise and quickly strode to the large windows overlooking the yawning ocean. There was no warped glass in the windows, only the long gossamer curtains and shutters ties to the side of the wall in case the weather turned inclement or privacy was desired, so the warm balmy breeze was free to waft inside, smelling of brine and sunshine as it gently ruffled the sheer curtains.

“Oh, this is extraordinary, Asmo!” Unlike the gray dreary sea of Brighton, this one was bright and vibrant. He leaned outside tentatively for the better look and saw there was ample seating available outside. The idea of witnessing the sunset out on the veranda was an enchanting one, and suddenly the wait until evening seemed insufferable.

Asmodeus remained in the middle of the room so that he could watch Thomas’ enthusiasm play out. Thoroughly bond by a contract that curtailed his freedom would make any wise prince admissibly uncomfortable. In truth it only caused contentment to settle in his bones. Although it was a foreign emotion to experience, he quite liked it and harbored no aspiration to break the contract. “Do you like it?”

Thomas’ boyish grin was laden with uninhibited excitement. “Oh, yes! I’ve never seen anything so lovely before.” He stood there a few more moments, lost in the beauty of his surroundings, until he was eventually driven back inside by the mounting heat. He dropped down on the edge of the bed and made a mess of his cravat as he hastily loosened the damp fabric. “But it’s so warm. I fear I might begin to melt if I don’t soon change.” The sultry paradise was beginning to make him uncomfortable for he was still dressed in his woolen suit.

Asmodeus looked unfazed by the dramatic change in weather, and gallantly helped Thomas by tugging off his polished top boots. The effort had the boy tumbling back onto the mattress, giggling as he tried to wrestle out of his cumbersome frock coat and vest simultaneously. He couldn’t seem to get undressed fast enough. The thrill of adventure made his fingers shake as his mind buzzed with countless of ways they could spend their time in this unspoiled corner of paradise. Swimming took precedence, and he couldn’t help but imagine how wonderful the warm water would feel against his skin once he was adrift on the gentle tide. Though his skill was limited he was sure Asmodeus wouldn’t let him drown.

When asked if a dip in the ocean would be possible, Asmodeus responded with a dispirited, “If you wish.”

Thomas continued to rattle on, his eyes distant and dreamy. “Then we could look for seashells for I daresay Teddy would be thrilled to receive some.”

“That’s another possibility.”

Finally tossing his frock coat aside with a faint exclamation of triumph, Thomas glanced up, eager to press his lover with ideas that seemed more fantastic than the next. His brilliant smile held fast. He hadn’t noticed how close Asmodeus stood between his splayed legs until now, and his passionate discourse caught in his throat. Suddenly the idea of staying inside seemed to be a far more appealing one as Asmodeus slowly undressed, starting with the buttons on his own coat. The heat he saw gathering in Asmodeus’ eyes was titillating. Thomas’ hands gripped the soft bedcovers and he swallowed thickly. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath as he pondered what the demon wanted to do to him.

. Thomas sat up straighter for a glimpse of skin beneath the crisp linen shirt Asmodeus was ridding himself of. The sight of his muscles tightening and flexing beneath taut skin compelled Thomas to reach out. The hard expanse of his belly and chest were adored with fingers before they were replaced by fervent lips. It was impossible to rid himself of this fanatical want of Asmodeus. The demon was his obsession, his addiction, and this bond felt as indispensable and inherent as breathing.

Asmodeus groaned, insatiable in his passion, and acquiesced to being urgently tugged closer by his lover. “Have you found something more appealing than brine and seashells?” His tone was lighthearted but his teeth were clenched.

Thomas looked up from beneath his lashes, his big eyes dark with lust, his cheeks flushed. It was an enticing expression, one that would never become tiresome to Asmodeus no matter how often he saw it. Pink lips were thoughtfully sucked, and Asmodeus’ control wavered dangerously. “Can you make it worth my time?”

At any other time an attestation to Thomas’ dogged wit would have come as a delight to Asmodeus. Now it simply made him want to push the boy back and put the large bed to good use. His fingers clutched the golden curls unkindly and he wrenched his lover’s head back. At least now the boy had the courtesy to stifle his smile. “It that a challenge, darling?”

“If you wish.” Asmodeus was not fooled by his poise. He was well acquainted with that ravenous look in his lovers’ eyes. He cupped Thomas’ chin and winked at him. “Oh, I do.”

Thomas nuzzled the bare skin displayed before him before following the tapering trail of dark hair that disappeared behind the waistband. Already his lover was hardening beneath his touch. Embarrassment was not given the chance to flourish and Thomas leisurely fondled the prominent outline of his lover’s cock. There was another, coarser groan. Thomas felt Asmodeus’ hands clenched into tight fists as he eased the buttons of the fly open. The fabric was tugged apart, revealing his lover’s thick cock. Anticipation gripped the demon like a vice, stunting his breath, before Thomas tilted his head back, and had the nerve ask if his lover would prefer his hands or his mouth.

“Don’t get cheeky with me now,” he warned, “or you’ll have a mark the size and shape of my hand on your backside.”

Thomas bit his lower lip to keep from smiling when his saw the way Asmodeus’ cock lurched, and he thought how much they would both enjoy it if the admonition held true. He began to stroke him indulgently but was too slow and careful to appease. Thomas held him at the base, squeezing gently, and Asmodeus watched, memorized, as the tip of lover’s pink tongue slipped out to tentatively lick his ridged member. Asmodeus bit down on his tongue hard in the hopes the menial discomfort would cool his desire, but it was easy for his frustration to mount when he was so damn hard. Teasing licks were gradually traded for generous strokes, and slowly lips were wrapped around him, sucking him further into the warm mouth. Thomas’ head began to bob quickly, taking in as much as he could without being made uncomfortable. It was a delicious way to be treated, but he remained unsatisfied by the time Thomas’ jaw grew sore.

Thomas broke away, lips wet and swollen. Uncertainty dawned in his eyes and very timidly he asked, “Do you wish to fuck my mouth?”

Asmodeus held fast to his growl, and carefully trailed the pad of his thumb across Thomas’ lips. He was positive Thomas was unaware how much his innocence drove him to his breaking point. If he had known, Asmodeus doubted he would have gathered the nerve to ask such a question. “I’ll fuck more than that, but yes,” he breathed deeply, “your mouth is a good place to start.” His hands came to rest at the sides of Thomas’ head. “Keep still and try to relax your throat, darling.”

Thomas was an obliging acolyte and he parted his lips to receive his lover’s cock without forethought. His fingers dug into Asmodeus’ hips and he closed his eyes as his mouth was split wide to accommodate the girth of his lover’s cock. By the time Asmodeus was rutting roughly into his mouth, striking the back of his throat with every smooth snap of his lips, Thomas’ desire was equally as rampant.

“Look at me,” Asmodeus growled out, out of breath and at the edge of reason.

Thomas found his lover panting above him. Teeth bared and skin flushed and damp, his body was straining with exertion and his dark hair tumbled across his brow. Thomas moaned around the thick length as he hastily began to fondle his own neglected erection. That didn’t go unnoticed by the demon. His groan was primeval when he cupped the back of Thomas’ head. His hips snapped forward, driving his cock deeper. It was hard to breathe. It felt as though his mouth was too full and Thomas panted through his nose as his lover fucked his aching mouth without contrition.

He gasped, loud and wet, when Asmodeus pulled away. He continued to stroke it briskly when he ordered Thomas to open his mouth again. Thomas obeyed, excited that Asmodeus was so close, and felt his lover’s seed spurt into his tongue. The musky sediment dribbled down his chin and the back of his throat, and he swallowed it without complaint.

Though Asmodeus was shaking and breathing harshly, he was not yet satisfied. He forced Thomas over onto his hands and knees, and yanked his crumpled trousers and small clothes away. A stinging slap to his buttocks made his cock pulse in his hand, and the intensity of the pleasure that shot straight to his groin made his body hungry for more.

“That was for earlier, you little imp,” Asmodeus purred lovingly. With the razor-like edge of his desire softened for the moment, his large hands were soothing and indulgent as they spread Thomas wide. A raspy whimper burned in Thomas’ throat and his back arched, fluid and indecent, into the maddening touch. He sank into the soft mattress, biting his lower lip hard when he felt a slick finger enter him. A teasing bite to his flank made his seek out his cock once more, rubbing to incite his desire or squeezing to stall the pleasure when it became too much.

Other fingers were inserted, stretching the delicate skin until it burned. Even though his spine and flank were generously kissed by lips and scoured by teeth, discomfort threatened to censor his arousal until Asmodeus stroked a spot that sent nonpareil pleasure coursing throughout his body. It made his head swim. Fluid trickled from his engorged cock while pleas trembled from his lips amid his husky moans. That spot was exploited multiple times under Asmodeus’ diligent supervision. Thomas bucked and moaned wantonly, rubbing his cock until it felt as though the restless pleasure inside him was moments away from peaking.

Then Asmodeus left him. If Thomas felt like complaining for being so quickly abandoned, the complaint died on his lips when the demon flipped him onto his back and pinned his legs to his chest, bending his slender body nearly in half. Air rushed out of Thomas’ lung in quick, noisy puffs when he felt Asmodeus’ cock press against him. Impatience made them hasty lovers, and the pace was quickly set to allow for their much needed release to come as soon as possible. Asmodeus’ thrusts were deep but quick as his hips rolled back and forth. His hands kept a steely hold on the back of Thomas’ legs, as he watched the beautiful mortal beneath him. The rough fuck had him throwing his head back, mouth wide open to let his moans escape, and his hand pumping his cock to bring him that much closer to his climax. It was with a groan of satisfaction that Asmodeus watched his body arch urgently off the bed and spend.

“Oh, that’s it,” Asmodeus approved in a gravelly murmur. His hold tightened, and a startled moan erupted from Thomas when the demon pressed in deeper. His large frame stiffened and his determined thrusts stuttered when he allowed himself to finish. Their mutual gasps of gratification filled the air as Asmodeus continued to milk his cock until he grew too soft and had to pull out.

Asmodeus gently eased Thomas’ legs onto the mattress, pressing weary kisses into his lover’s damp flesh, until he yielded to the exhaustion, and dropped heavily onto the disheveled bed besides his lover. He stared blankly up at the ceiling and tried to catch his breath. He glanced over, worried when he could only see the back of his lover’s head and wide expanse of his bowed back. His hand landed gently on Thomas’ hip, his fingers curving over the jutting bone, and stayed there. “All right there, darling?” Thomas’ diminutive nod did very little to reassure Asmodeus. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” Thomas admitted softly, rousing slowly from his nap. “I own that I’m a little overwhelmed.”

Asmodeus smile was insufferably smug, but he was careful when curled up behind his lover. He kissed the nap of his neck, could taste and smell the scent of his sweat, and murmured, “Why the devil did we put this off for two full weeks?”

“I admit that it was a rash decision on my part.”

“We could have been very quiet.”

Thomas eyed him over his shoulder. “Are you certain of that?”

“I could have gagged you,” Asmodeus proposed innocuously, “and whispered naughty things into your ear as I touched you. It would have worked.”

That earned him a tired kick. “Behave yourself.”

While Thomas sounded like he was struggling to stay awake, Asmodeus was bright-eyed and alert as ever. He kissed Thomas’ shoulder quickly. “Will a nap and then luncheon restore you to rights, my love?”

“If you clean the bed and feed me pudding later, there’s a possibility that they might help.”

Asmodeus chuckled and cleaned the mess as he was told. He then stripped both of them of their remaining garments while his lover dozed. When they were both naked, he sprawled out beside Thomas, his fingers trailing over soft skin, until he sank into a shallow sleep to the sound of his lover’s even breaths.

Thomas made every attempt to get out of bed the rest of the day. It was a far too beautiful outside to be cooped inside a cottage after all. But between the Asmodeus’ affection and the suppleness of the bed, there seemed little cause to leave at all. Sleep came and went, softer touches and lingering kisses were entreated in between refreshments, and gradually the sun crossed the vast blue sky to hang above the horizon.

Thomas roused for good in the evening. The bed sheet slipped from his shoulder to pool at his waist as he looked out onto the ocean through the western windows. Asmodeus admired the pale bruises peppering his lover’s creamy skin with a fair amount of smugness. 

Grinning unabashedly, Thomas turned towards his bedraggled lover. “Would you like to go out onto the veranda and watch the sunset with me?”

Though he didn’t relish the thought of leaving the bed so soon, he eventually acquiesced with a nod. It was impossible to deny Thomas anything. More eager than his nephew on Christmas morning, Thomas scuttled out from their tousled cocoon of blankets, and retrieved a wrinkled dressing robe from within his valise. The demon was disheartened at his lover’s sudden concern for modesty.

“Do you wish to eat supper out there as well?”

“Oh, yes. I’m quite famished,” Thomas said absentmindedly as he wandered off to the water closet. “I’ll be just a moment.”

Since Asmodeus didn’t share his lover’s fondness for clothes he sauntered onto the veranda stark-naked. He threw himself onto one cushioned lounge chairs, and summoned a generous dinner for the pair of them with a somnolent wave of his hand. Plates appeared on the nearby table, overloaded with exotic fruits, succulent meats and sweet breads. Chilled wine enticed Asmodeus from the bottle.  As he filled their glasses, he wondered if the food might be too unusual for Thomas’ pallet. The boy’s experience outside of the boundaries of Europe was tragically nonexistent after all.

“Oh, that looks delicious,” Thomas exclaimed as he rejoined Asmodeus. He claimed the chair on the other side of their impromptu dining table with his legs tucked beneath him, and dauntlessly plucked a chunk of pineapple from the bowl and into his mouth.

With that final comment, their supper was consumed quickly and quietly since Thomas couldn’t spare a moment for polite discourse when his eyes were staunchly fixed upon the brilliant sunset. When they had their fill of the main fares, Asmodeus replenished the table with a tantalizing assortment of pudding just as Thomas had asked. They picked their way through lemon ice, orange cream, jam tartlets, and ratafia cakes. By the time their bellies were full, a wide band of indigo was swallowing up most of the vast sky with jagged streaks of pink and orange appearing just above the horizon. Thomas relocated to Asmodeus’ lap, both to cover the demon’s nudity as well as appease his strong desire to be as close as possible to him, and his company was warmly received with a chuckle. As the sun slowly descended, twinkling stars and a sliver of moon glowed bright. Thomas watched completely enamored while Asmodeus endured the predictable sunset without much grievance. While he had seen thousands of sunsets in his time, he never had so fetching a lover on his lap to retain his attention.

“This is just marvelous. Have you ever seen anything so beautiful, Asmo?”

“Many times,” he replied gently, revisiting a bruise on his lover’s neck with his lips while his hand slowly crept inside his lover’s robe to wander up between his thighs. He wondered how much he would have to beg for a little outside romp. “You’re forgotten that that this land has been in my possession for many, many years. I’ve long-since appreciated all the delicacies this island has to offer me.”

Thomas went quiet. Suddenly he was that brooding young man Asmodeus first met nearly a year ago, and he had to wonder with a pang of worry what could be whirling around in that head of his. He squeezed Thomas’ thigh, interrupting his reverie as gently as possible. “What’s troubling you?”

Thomas’ response was a smile that lacked its usual sincerity.  _I’m such a fool_ , he thought as his happiness splinter. The cracks were hairline but it allowed for his sobering practicality to seep through and deliver a cutting set-down. It made looking at the demon far too difficult. “I hadn’t occurred to me before that you might become bored,” he admitted quietly.

“It doesn’t happen too terribly often.” Asmodeus offered his most charming smile but it failed to have any influence over Thomas’ blue devils. “I know,” he murmured, looking vastly unhappy now, “but you’re bored right now. I’m boring you.”

Asmodeus squeezed Thomas’ thigh and gently said, “It was just a sunset.”

His bluntness only worsened his lover’s mood, and he felt like a ham-fisted moron when he watched Thomas’ confidence shrivel up. “There are a great many things I have not yet seen. Do you think one day my inexperience will become too odious for you?”

The wish to wrap the boy in his arms and kiss him until all such foolishness left him alone was a vehement one but Asmodeus deliberately ignored it. Though it stung to see his lover struggling with such needless doubt, he knew it was it inevitable that Thomas would start to press him with questions. In his mind it must seem a very odd thing for a demon to be content in a seaside town with such an undistinguished human lover. “No,” Asmodeus answered swiftly. “It’s been a privilege to be your companion.”

“But you cannot deny the fact that I live a very unremarkable life, Asmo,” he pressed. “It’s not magnificent or grand by any means, and that must eventually become wearisome for a prince. You’ve had centuries to cultivate a taste for a lifestyle that I’m afraid neither Brighton nor I have the capability to provide you with.”

“Darling, I don’t want that. You could never bore me enough to make me want to break our contract and abandon you,” Asmodeus assured him gently, uplifting Thomas’ hand so he could place a kiss upon the sapphire ring. “You’re simply too ravishing.”

A tiny smile appeared. “One day I’ll be an old man with wrinkles and bad teeth, Asmo. Will you still call me ravishing then?”

“It will be my sworn obligation to tell you that twice a day,” the demon countered with a wink. “I’ll even kiss every last one of your wrinkles before you fall asleep at night.”

“Even if we’re still in Brighton?”

“Especially if we’re still in Brighton.”


	4. Chapter 4

Thomas sat on the beach in the light of the setting sun, and couldn’t remember the last time he felt so weary. While he had fallen asleep with a placated heart, the pestering doubt was there when he awoke. It lingered over him like a dark cloud, threatening to dampen his spirits and ruin their promising holiday. So he had surmised that an adventure would be a required distraction from his brooding thoughts, and Asmodeus, sprawled carelessly on the sand beside him, had been quick to oblige.

They spent the morning tramping through the sweltering jungle beneath the wary watch of tiny monkeys perched high in the trees. Thomas hadn’t been expecting Asmodeus to guide him to a large lake at the foot of an ebullient waterfall, and the cool relief of the fresh water was highly welcomed. They dawdled there, to swim and then to make love for the better half of the morning, until their aching stomachs told them it was well past noon. Luncheon was served in the shade of a palm tree, and they dinned dressed in their wrinkled shirts and linen trousers with the cuffs rolled halfway up their calves. Thomas was quite happy to wiggle his toes in the warm sand, and couldn’t bring himself to care about how rumpled his attire had become or how much he needed to shave. Afterwards Asmodeus’ seemingly endless knowledge of the tropical fish and crustaceans that called the ocean home riveted Thomas as they hunted for seashells. Now they watched the sunset mindlessly, their glassy eyes too tired to truly appreciate the beauty displayed before them. Thomas’ skin felt warm and taut from prolonged exposure to the sunlight, and he was moments away from falling asleep on the beach because the thought of walking back to the cabin seemed an impossible feat. But he was happy. He had his adventure and could attest that his doubt had been sufficiently snuffed out.

A massive yawn made Asmodeus turn to face his lover with a cockeyed grin. Sympathy crinkled his brow and the corners of his eyes. The minute lines only worked to accentuate his devilishly handsome looks and Thomas’ stomach was suddenly aflutter with butterflies, and the feeling only worsened when the demon reached out to touch him. “Dinner and then bed?”

Thomas gave him a sheepish smile. “I don’t think I could sleep.”

“Then we could have dinner, return to our pool, and go to bed unspeakably late,” he suggested with a wiggle of his dark brows. Even though Asmodeus had driven him to the cusp of mindless ecstasy again and again in the darker niches of the lake until his throat was raw and parched and tears blurred his vision, the suggestion was a very tempting one. But then an alarming thought sliced through his foggy thoughts and Asmodeus was caught off guard by the intensity in Thomas’ eyes as he scrutinized the immediate shore.

“What’s wrong?”

“Our seashells are gone.”

Asmodeus shrugged, unconcerned, and collapsed onto the ground once more. “We’ll find them tomorrow.”

“Nonsense,” Thomas replied, gingerly climbing to his feet. “Let us go find the bucket before the tides washes it away.” Asmodeus unhappy frown made him chuckle. The demon obviously did not find the idea of wasting their evening locating the wayward bucket a delightful one, but Thomas hated the thought of losing those pretty shells so soon. “Don’t look so petulant. If you search that half of the beach while I search the other half, it shouldn’t take us very long.”

Asmodeus yielded with a groan of displeasure. “I’ll have you know I’m only consenting this because I love you,” he said with a quick kiss.

Thomas’ blush was hidden by his ruddy complexion, but he looked excessively pleased by the confession before the demon loped off to search his predetermined stretch of shore. Thomas headed in the opposite direction optimistically but no amount of searching revealed the rogue bucket’s whereabouts. Hoping that providence favored Asmodeus, he gave up and strolled back to their cottage.

The sinking sun made the approaching figure nothing more than an obscure blob on the horizon. Only when he got closer did he see that it was Beelzebub who came to greet him, not Asmodeus. Thomas grinned at the fashionably attired demon with his vibrant silks and coruscating rings, and the demon performed a silly little bow. “Good evening, Thomas. I see that your little holiday here has been a pleasant one so far.”

Thomas tried to suppress his boyish grin but found that he couldn’t quite manage it. “It has,” he quietly allowed.

“Then I must commend your docility with the utmost admiration,” the demon sweetly expressed but the silver-tongued snub did not go unnoticed. “I, on the other hand, would be appalled had my lover taken me to the site of so many of his prior trysts. It’s quite indecent, wouldn’t you agree, Thomas?”

The outrageous speech left Thomas too confused to answer. He grew doubtful as the libelous words of his guest revitalized his fears. “Prior trysts?”

“Oh my, yes. This island has been Asmodeus’ little love nest for centuries. But it seems I’ve upset you,” Beelzebub digressed. “Did Asmo not divulge that tiny piece of information?”

The betrayal he felt made him sick to his stomach. “No.”

The demon grimaced. “I’m truly sorry for ruining your precious honeymoon, that was not my intention, but the reality of the situation is undeniable. You’re not Asmodeus’ first affair, Thomas, and you certainly won’t be his last.” Beelzebub chuckled unkindly now and a menacing look prevailed in his blue eyes. “Unless you had hoped to change his wild ways then, my sweet boy, I do feel very badly for you.”

Thomas stood, gaping and distracted by the wild pounding of his heart and the rush of his unsteady thoughts. A stalwart demurral would have been voiced had not Beelzebub’s words, no matter how unwarranted and vile they were, was steeped in truth. He anxiously looked down at his ring. It had been a present laden with precious memories and sentimental value, but now he only desired to rip the ring off his finger out of shame.

“Asmodeus wouldn’t do that,” Thomas feebly expostulated.

Beelzebub looked sympathetic and stepped forward to clasp his hands. “How can you be so sure of that? Surely you realize that a simple man like yourself can hold no hope in retaining Asmodeus’ favor of for very long even with the aid of a contract. Eventually he will become bored and then his eyes will wander to another fetching mortal. Asmodeus is a rake, through and through.”

“That’s not true.”

“Of course it is. You don’t know him like I do or, rather, he won’t let you know him like I do. Neither of you have been the most forthcoming about your past which makes me wonder  _why_. Lovers ought to place value in honesty, shouldn’t they? Or is the sex so good you two don’t care that you’re fucking a stranger?”

A large shadow appeared behind Beelzebub who gracefully sidestepped when he felt Asmodeus’ wrathful gaze scorch the back of his head. Confronted by the livid prince, Beelzebub’s facade gave a tremendous tremor before the trick faded all together to reveal an entirely different demon. “Your Highness, this is quite the pleasant surprise!”

“You’re unwelcomed here, Belial.”

“There’s no need to be so unfriendly.” His eyes flashed to Thomas, a smirk dimpling his pallid cheeks. “Satan told me about your pretty  _cinaedus.”_

Asmodeus let out a loud ferocious growl. A fist brought Belial to his knees and broke his nose before Thomas realized that Asmodeus had attack him. A river of bright red blood gushed over his lips and down his chin but the blow did nothing to check his nerve. “Is that all you have in you?”

Asmodeus griped his scuff savagely, and drove the demon hard into the sand, snarling like the wolf. The site of Thomas so stricken had filled him with fury and wished only for vengeance. “Mind your tongue or I’ll rip it from you throat, Belial!” He made to grab the demon’s throat, eager to follow through with his threat, before Thomas stepped forward with a strangled plea of pardon. Asmodeus paused, growled low and deep, but made no move to back away.

Belial’s cackle was wicked as he turned his eyes towards Thomas. The twisted, bloody smile was not a pleasant one to see. “So your kindness is not an exaggeration after all. What can a prince like Asmodeus possibly see in you?”

Thomas pressed his lips together, ignoring the provocation even if it hurt. “Let him go.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me, Thomas.”

“I’m asking you not to beat a creature in front of me,” Thomas pressed, his voice cracking within his aching throat. Despite the heat of the evening, his skin was clammy and his limbs trembled.

Asmodeus looked at him sharply, his eyes hot and angry. “He should not have insulted you.”

“It’s not an insult if it’s the truth,” Belial taunted.

“You damnable wretch!” In his fury, Asmodeus flung the demon away. “You’ll have no mercy from me!”

Belial groaned when he hit the sand but that groan quickly turned into a peal of delighted laughter as he rolled onto his back. “Then allow me to depart for now, your highness!”

Asmodeus turned to Thomas quickly when they found themselves alone, and pulled his taciturn lover into his arms. Gone was the mindless furious and in its place there was genuine concern that looked grossly incongruous with the demon’s bruised knuckles. “Thomas, are you all right?”

The demon heaved a heavy sigh of relief when Thomas nodded and cradled his jaw in the palm of his hands. He thought he could suffer the kiss pressed urgently into his brow but he felt nauseated by the demon’s presence, not comforted by it, and he pushed the demon away. Asmodeus stumbled backwards, his brow creased in bewilderment. “Why do you treat me as though I was the one who insulted you?”

“Because I am insulted!” The malicious words shook his faith in Asmodeus and revealed how ridiculous their relationship truly was. The lust was genuine but everything else felt like a terrible lie especially now when Thomas realized how little he knew of the demon, and humiliation burned him from him from the inside out.

“Thomas, whatever Belial said to you, you need to ignore it,” Asmodeus pleaded. “He’s loyalty belongs to Satan, and he would use his words like daggers to cause us harm.”

It was getting harder to blink back the tears that stung his eyes. In the back of his mind, he knew that Asmodeus lived a long life of debauchery but gave it very little thought for he always gave the impression of a faithful lover. Now he found himself vastly unsure. “Why should I ignore him? The points he brought up were valid.”

“So you’d rather believe the lies of your enemy over the truth of your lover?”

Thomas looked away, ashamed of his own disgraceful thoughts, and slowly nodded. “I wish with all my might that I could believe you, Asmodeus, but I simply can’t. You say you love me and will stay willingly by my side, but I’m so scared that you’ll realize that our contract has been a terrible mistake.”

“Thomas, I will not allow for such talk. Do you understand me?” He hadn’t intended to raise his voice but it was too late to realize how precarious is grip was on his anger had become. Thomas looked stricken as unshed tears swelled up in his eyes, and Asmodeus left like a beast. An apology was slipping from his lips when Thomas, very quietly, told him to leave.

He stepped away slowly, hoping that this much needed space would improve their strained rapport. He want to ask how many words or promises would it take for Thomas to believe he was speaking from the heart, but he did realize that speaking now when they were both distracted by their slighted feelings would not be constructive. He offered an ultimatum instead.  

“I’ll give you an hour, Thomas,” he said, his voice controlled and deliberate. “One hour to calm down, and then we will talk. In the meantime at least try to remember how much I do love you.”


	5. Chapter 5

By the time Thomas reached the cabin unaccompanied, his head ached and his stomach churned as though he had been overindulging on cheap wine. He leaned heavily against the door as his head swam and limbs trembled violently. The wicks of the candles littering the floor were suddenly bright with tongues of fire the moment he had walked in, giving off warm yellow light to minimize the thickening darkness. It hurt to know that Asmodeus’ consideration remained unshaken, and Thomas would have been raked with guilt had he not had an unexpected illness to distract him. He thought the best thing to do was sleep the malady away, but a silver tray rested in the middle of the disheveled bed, garnering his attention. It held a loaf of bread, a pitcher of water and a glass, and a little vial of purple liquid that had a note attached to it. Unsteady and damp with a cold sweat, he reached for the missive first though he dreaded what it would say.

_It’s imperative that you drink the contents of the vial first, Thomas. Afterwards partake in the bread and the water but do so slowly. I’ll return soon._

_Yours,_

_A_

In no mood to question orders, Thomas uncorked the glass phial and swallowed the liquid. Like water it had no true taste and was disconcertingly potable. A second later there was a sickening lurch in his stomach. Bile surged up to scorch the back of his throat and he rushed to the water closet where he retched into the nearest washing basin. Sputtering, he opened his watery eyes and saw the black tar-like substance slithering at the bottom of the bowl only a moment before an enchantment had whisked it away. He doubled over again and continued to be sick until his stomach was empty and his throat was scratched raw. He remained on the floor, his warm forehead pressed against the cool porcelain, in the event that he needed it again.

Eventually the sickness abated enough so that he could haul himself into the bathtub to wash away the grime and sweat. Whatever he had thrown up was revolting, but he was thankful it was gone and was too exhausted to think any more of it. Leaning back against the curved rim of the tub, he closed his eyes and took slow, deep breathes. He concentrated hard on the rhythmic movements of his chest and the feeling of air filling his lungs as he washed carefully in the tepid ever-fresh water before finally wrapping himself up in Asmodeus’ dressing gown before settling down on the bed for the night, too tired to sample any of the humble foodstuffs.

Solace was easy to come by curled upon the soft mattress and breathing in Asmodeus’ scent mingled with his own but the peaceful moment was unsettled guilt. That he had hurt Asmodeus by his poor show of trust was a given, and for that his heavy heart allowed him no respite until he promised himself that he would make amends as soon as Asmodeus returned.

* * *

 

The wizened monk who sat glowering behind his laden desk wasn’t at all surprised when Brother Adolphus crept into the library. Feigning deep interest in the yellowing manuscript laid out before him, Brother Lothar kept a close watch on the dowdy youth. Adolphus was scarcely a man at the tender age of eighteen and had yet to adapt to the austere lifestyle inside the gilded abbey. While the order was not a harsh one, strict rules dictated all aspects of their routine and their responsibilities were numerous. To his knowledge Brother Adolphus still had yet to make a companion who could help ease the difficult transition from childhood to brotherhood so Adolphus, friendless and alone, would often seek refuge within the library whenever he could afford to.

Lothar ought to instruct the boy to remove himself to the chapel for Morning Prayer, but his heart wavered at the thought of casting out the pitiable wretch. Though they had shared but a few words since Adolphus’ arrival, he was fond of the timid boy.  He was not obnoxious, nor was he intrusive. When he dared to speak, his voice was hardly above a murmur. He respected the invaluable tomes from a polite distance, and diligently kept his hands firmly inside his robe at all times lest his fingers cause unintentional harm to the timeworn spines. Today, however, his pallid countenance was wistful as he drifted along the outskirts of the chamber. Lothar felt compelled to offer the boy any sort of sympathy that he could and put aside his ruse.

“Is there something you wanted to see in particular, boy?” Every man within the abbey could attest that the librarian guarded his paper treasure far better than any fire-breathing dragon could, so such an unprecedented question should have turned the sullen young man into a slobbering fanatic. Instead the Adolphus paused and looked at Lothar as if seeing him for the first time. His dark brows arched in absentminded surprise, and he quietly murmured, “While I could often find comfort in books all I ever see now are the hollow ideas of dead men.”

“It sounds to me that you’re spending your time with the wrong books.”

Brother Adolphus appeared to have a retort on his tongue but the low tolling of the church bells caught his attention. He turned his unblinking gaze upon the terrace doorway. “Maybe some fresh air will do me some good.”

Lothar nodded, pitying the boy deeply. He could never forget the loneliness that haunted him his first year at the abbey even if he tried to banish those memories from his mind. “Air and then prayer, young man,” Lothar chided lest his soft-heartedness be exposed. “But if you happen to be in the mood for some reading afterwards, please do not be a stranger.” But Adolphus had already wandered out onto the marble terrace and didn’t heed his words of kindness.

The morning dawned gray and bitterly cold. The bleak winter held the countryside captive by wind that stung as it raged and a dreary sky that swore ever more foul weather. Below in the courtyard monks hurried into the cheery yellow church that looked discordant in the grey light of dawn. Adolphus stood and stared hard at the baroque façade, unconcerned for the bitter cold or his pressing responsibilities. When he glowered at  _Christus Salvator_  and the flanking angels, the rage that hardened his rotund face seemed abrupt and unfounded. Then his eyes surged higher to the heavily embellished towers. Slowly his anger ebbed, replaced by imperturbable resolve. Unseen by the other monks, he vanished from sight in the puff of whirling smoke.

From his precarious perch upon the bulbous tower, the quiescent town of Melk appeared to be a tidy assortment of doll houses and the monks below mere specks of brown. The chilly wind howled in his ears and threatened to topple him over but Adolphus crouched upon his icy roost like a stooped gargoyle. Slowly, carefully, he rose up. The wind ripped around him mercilessly, tearing at his long robe and freezing his delicate husk but he paid no heed to the sting. His back bowed carefully so that he could look over ledge. The ground was awfully far away.

Would this fall be enough to kill me?

For far too long he had been forced into a life he never really wanted, and now his tolerance was at its end. Death was a gamble, but at least it held the promise of numbness which he would welcome as a sweet relief from the tedium and pain he endured day after day. Hopefully this time it would finally be there to greet him at the bottom of the tower.

A flume of smoke rose up from the opposing tower and a handsome man, clad in gold armor and wild with worry, appeared. “Your royal highness, don’t!”

His plea drew Belphegor away from the edge. Disorientated, he looked around, not recognizing who he saw until it dawned on him that the intruder was his own duke. A scowl darkened his face. Even hiding within the shell of this pathetic human, Astaroth had been able to sniff him out. His dogged loyalty was infuriating. A closer examination made the figures of his sisters apparent as they prowled the outskirts of the courtyard, silent and unseen from mortals within their black whirling glamour.

This unexpected hindrance unsettled his composure. “Why can’t you just go away, Astaroth?” Tear blurred his vision and he wrapped his arms about his middle, turning in on himself. It stung his pride to have Astaroth see him such a pathetic state. “I don’t need you here.”

Anguish contorted the duke’s face and drove him to his knees, hands raised as if in surrender. “Please don’t do this, your royal highness.”

Suddenly Belphegor wanted to throw his head back and howl with laughter or go to the other tower and strike his servant for refusing to deviate from his polite obsequiousness. He remained rooted to the tower, however, and shook with anger until it to retreated back into the shadows. He flagged in the bitter wind, comforted by the fact that he didn’t have to fight the benevolent duke. A demon of Astaroth’s rank was powerless to stop a prince and his fealty kept him from betraying their location to his sisters. Astaroth knew it too, and cried unabashedly.  _He’s a good duke_ , the prince lamented.  _He doesn’t deserve to serve a prince like me_.

The howling wind silenced his whispered apology before Belphegor leaned over the edge. He let gravity do the rest. Astaroth screamed, and Mammon looked up in time to see a body slam into the ground.

~*~*~*~

A visitor sat on the steps of the cabin when Asmodeus skulked back. Dressed in a thin gown of crimson chiffon with her matching scimitars poised upon her lap, Gremory looked as though she had a biting scold dancing upon the tip of her tongue. Asmodeus was exhausted, and worry had torn his patience to shreds over the course of the last hour so her sauce was the last thing he wanted to deal with tonight. At least he had made good on his threat. It had been a true pleasure to rip Belial’s wicked tongue from his throat, and now the rogue no longer posed such a grievous threat.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he snarled at his duke, and she wisely kept her silence. Gremory was a beautiful creature, one of the finest in Hell, with a sweet face and small body full of soft curves, but her pluck could be exasperating. “Has anyone else been here?”

The demon shook her head, bright moonlight gleaming off her luscious curls and the delicate golden chains wrapped around her horns. “Nope.”

“Good.” His eyes flickered towards the dark cabin and the image of a proud battle-weary aristocrat was torn asunder when his broad shoulders slumped and a forlorn frown. His voice was softer when he asked, “How’s Thomas?”

“The fellow’s been as quiet as a mouse.”

The weight in Asmodeus’ chest did not lessen. “I suppose that’s for the best,” he admitted unhappily. Guilt that his own negligence had allowed Belial to slip onto the island unnoticed ate at him. When he had made Thomas’ ring he had enchanted it with every spell that could protect him from physical harm. It hadn’t occurred to him that his enemies would be smart enough to employ other means of abuse, and that was an injudicious slipup which needed to be resolved as soon as possible. He gestured for her to leave, uncomfortable with how exposed he felt before her eyes. “Get out of here, Gremory.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied with a half-hearted salute before jumping to her feet. “You know, Asmodeus, it’s quite unlike you to be so careless.”

The barb nettled him. “You’ve better things to do than give me guff, sweetheart.  You’ll find tied Belial tired to a rock somewhere in Belphegor’s domain. Do me a favor and take him to Sheol.”

The news delighted the demon, and she quickly left mounted atop her humpbacked steed.

Not knowing what to expect inside the cabin gave him reason enough to enter it prudently. The candles had been snuffed out but he was still able to see Thomas lying in bed, huddled within his dressing down. The wretched sight made his heart ache and he was careful when he settled beside his sleeping lover. The need to touch him was beyond anything he had ever felt before. It was more painful than the urge to breathe was when air was denied, more demanding than the impulse to pull one’s fingers away from an open flame. They had words which needed to be spoken but Asmodeus reckoned they could wait until morning.  Now he simply craved to be near him.  

No matter how gentle Asmodeus was, Thomas stilled stirred in his sleep, murmuring softly. His murmurs turned into protests as he tried to wiggle free from his arms. “No,” Thomas groaned. He stiffened. “Don’t touch me, Asmo. Not when I’ve been so horrid.” His voice was rusty and so unhappy that Asmodeus refused let him go.

“I don’t begrudge you, darling,” he whispered. He brought a hand up to gingerly brush away the blond wisps of hair from his lover’s neck and nuzzled his sun-kissed kiss. Despite his stalwart objection, Asmodeus felt Thomas relax. “Did you drink the potion?”

“I did, but it made me terribly ill.”

“I’m sorry for that, Thomas. Did you have any water or bread?”

“No. I only wished to sleep.”

Asmodeus sighed, his own tired body bemoaning his duty, before he dragged himself up. A few candles were relit and, though he hated to unsettle his exhausted lover, he pulled him up as gingerly as he could. Thomas’ countenance was pallid and sickly in the dim light, but he kept his grievances to himself as he rested heavily against Asmodeus’ chest. A glass of cool water was summoned and Asmodeus held the rim to Thomas’ dry lips and he drank from it deeply. Then he tore off a tiny bit of the loaf and carefully held it out to Thomas to eat. He looked dubious as his eyes flickered back to the demon. “I don’t wish to become ill again.”

“You won’t become ill. I promise.”

“May I have more water instead?”

It was very hard to deny those pleading blue eyes anything but Asmodeus persevered. “You need to eat something,” he insisted. “You’re very weak.”

Thomas consented with a weary sigh and took the morsel, deliberately chewing it lest the sudden appearance of food reawakened his nausea. Instead it made him realize how truly hungry he was and he received the next piece eagerly. Each sip of water and each bite of bread seemed to improve his condition and clear his mind however his limbs still felt like lead bars so he continued to rest against the demon who had assumed a look of tender resignation. Thomas refused to believe he had been forgiven so easily, and wished to form a proper apology that would make up his behavior except he was so tired that he could only provide a wretched, “I’m sorry for being so disagreeable, Asmo.”

“It wasn’t your fault, love. You were poisoned.”

Dismay twisted Thomas’ face. “P-poisoned? How?”

With his free hand, Asmodeus soothed Thomas’ curls that had become mangled in his sleep. “Satan has many allies, Thomas, and that makes them our enemies. Most are incarcerated, but some managed to slip past our fingers during the war.”

Thomas’ color, which had been slowly returning up until now, suddenly vanished. “And that makes them mine as well.”

Asmodeus nodded slowly. “Belial is one such enemy. Though he is weak, and his power lies in his words. It’s a nasty little ability to have, and the more you believed him, the more pestilential his words become. The potion was the quickest way to get the poison out of you.”

 Anger made Thomas’ eyes flash. “I should have realized something was amiss. I’ve never in my entire life felt such blinding rage or such distrust.” He reached for Asmodeus’ hand, clasped it tightly before bestowing a fervent kiss upon his fingers. “I’m so very sorry I doubted you.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Asmodeus’ mouth, the stress and anger on the past hour melting away in an instant, and he bent to press his warm lips against Thomas’ forehead. “Please don’t fret. What you said was out of your control.”

Thomas looked discouraged and grumbled, “I would feel much better, Asmo, if you said that you accepted my apology.”

Even as the demon rolled his eyes a crooked grin appeared. “Fine. I accept your apology.” Thomas gave a feeble smile, and then continued to eat and drink until his eyes were heavy with sleep once more. The food was set aside so they could lie down, locked tightly in each other’s arms. Not much time seemed to have passed before Thomas was awoken by gently shaking. Groggy and disorientated, he craved sleep more than anything else, and swatted at Asmodeus’ hands in vain. It couldn’t be morning yet since the cabin was still dark, so why must he be up?

“Thomas, it’s time to leave,” he was urgently informed. “Something has happened, and we must return to Brighton.”


	6. Chapter 6

Thomas was not allowed to help assemble their belongings for their untimely departure. Since his rest did little to improve his condition he was predisposed to sit and watch Asmodeus’ magic whirled agitatedly about the interior of the cabin, and felt quite useless. The preoccupied demon didn’t divulge any of the details concerning why their presence was so urgently needed back in Brighton but maintained a tense silence as he worked. When their valises vanished he finally turned towards Thomas, his mouth set in a thin grim line, but was exceedingly gently as helped him from the bed, keeping a supportive arm about his waist when they stood shoulder to shoulder.

“What’s wrong, Asmo?” Thomas’ first thought was that Belial taken his wicked wiles to Brighton. The sickening idea of the demon tormenting his family made his heart plunge into his stomach. “Is it Emma or Teddy?”

Asmodeus’ brooding ceased instantly. There was an apologetic smile on his lips in place of the foreboding scowl as if it suddenly occurred to him that his behavior seemed far too contrary to his ill lover. “No, it’s nothing that serious, my dear,” he reassured Thomas. “We have guests in Ianthe Hall.”

“Something tells me there is more to that story.”

“It’s Belphegor. He’s gone and done something stupid. I’ll be as careful as possible, Thomas, but traveling won’t be very comfortable for you this time around I’m afraid.”

“I’ll be fine,” Thomas persisted tersely though he prayed that the hasty journey would not make him unduly sick. “But I’m still wearing in your dressing gown so be mindful where you take us.”

Genuine mirth glowed in Asmodeus’ eyes. “Of course.”

Suddenly there was a tumultuous whirlwind raging them but Asmodeus’ hold was steadfast. A dull roar filled Thomas’ ears, and he closed his eyes to block out the spiraling panorama that threatened to give him a grueling headache. Tongues of bitter coldness lashed out at them briefly before there was warmth and a plush rug beneath their feet to greet them at the end of their hasty journey. Taken by surprise by the sudden arrival Thomas staggered against Asmodeus. Opening his eyes he saw they were in their bedchamber in Ianthe Hall. Though he was shivering with a stomach bound in tight knots, he was deeply comforted by the familiar sights. It was good to be home. When Asmodeus gently eased him onto the bed he didn’t object. “There now, love. Back you go. How are you feeling?”

“Lightheaded,” Thomas returned faintly. It felt as though his head was floating somewhere near the ceiling with no intention of returning anytime soon. The  _remedial effect of lying down was instantly felt by Thomas, but it also made his eyes heavy with unshakable exhaustion._  By the grey light seeping in from the tiny openings in the drapes it was still very early in the dawn, and Thomas felt it would be quite easy to sleep the morning away. Asmodeus straightened Thomas’ tousled robe before covering him head to foot with a plush bedcover. Warm fingers settled on Thomas’ forehead, gently moving his blond curls aside. “Rest while I see to our guests. I won’t be gone long.”

Asmodeus lit a fire with a wave of his hand and summoned a vial of medicine and a basin to the nightstand in case Thomas should have need of them but the precautions turned out to be unnecessary. He was fast asleep before Asmodeus had a chance to leave the bedside.

It would have been wonderful to join him. Mucking about in the humidity of a tropical jungle and then in the bowels of hell had left him spent and soiled, but the throbbing pressure in his chest told him that his presence downstairs was nothing less than obligatory. Wishing to get the unpleasant encounter over as quickly as possible, Asmodeus skulked from the room. He used his magic to cleanse his body and transform his humble raiment to something more suitable to his pedigree than a partially buttoned shirt and wrinkled linen trousers. The silhouettes of his siblings in the saloon below were visible from the gallery but he deliberately ignored the two out of spite. He descended the main staircase with a purposefully stride, coldly signaled for the apprehensive duke who guarded the entrance of the saloon to keep his tedious formalities to himself, and sallied forth to greet his woebegone family.

Mammon, as regal as ever in her gathered silks and conspicuous trimmings, sat in front of the roaring fireplace but gave no heed to the complimentary tray of tea Maurice had set out for her personal consumption. Legs crossed beneath her Ionic chiton of gold and purple, countess golden fastenings blazed amongst her tightly coifed plaits and the folds of her dress. Her deep-set eyes regarded Asmodeus with staunch impatience while Belphegor repined upon a velveteen sofa, far removed from his eldest sister with his face turned away.

“So I was right,” Asmodeus groused, bearing his teeth in his irritation as he eyed his brother’s bloodstained clothes. “You did do something stupid. Again.”

Belphegor gave no signal that he had heard Asmodeus’ accusation, but Mammon’s glare was enough to quell his anger for the moment. He threw himself into the chair opposite of her. “How did he do it this time?”

“He possessed a human and threw himself off a tower,” Mammon replied. “The boy languished for minutes in a pool of his own blood and bones as Levia worked to draw Belphegor out. It was quite the spectacle for the resident monks.”

Asmodeus shook his head but kept his silence when he felt a scorching reprimand on the tip of his tongue. That certainly explained the blood. “Do you need my help with any of those unpleasant matters?”

“No, we were also forced to wipe the memories of a dozen or so monks clean so the incident has been contained.” That was an old trick they often resorted to when they didn’t wish for mortals to be aware of their existence. Monks clamoring about the appearance of demons in their midst often made for irritating repercussions later on. “It’s in our favor that most consider us creatures of mythology by now. I will not tolerate a reprise of Aix-en-Provence.”

“Well if you don’t need my help with the reparation then I’m almost afraid to ask as to why you thought it best to intrude upon my home, Mammon.”

“Because I’m in need of it,” she replied simply with the same mocking sweetness Asmodeus had employed. “I want Belphegor to stay awhile here. A change of scenery will do him some good.”

Asmodeus stared at her, exasperated by her audacity. He knew she cared for Belphegor more than any of her other siblings, but her plan was ludicrous. “I’m not his caretaker.”

“No, you’re not, but you are his brother, and the only one of the princes actively living in this realm,” she pointed out coolly. “So why not let him enjoy a quiet holiday here?”

“Fine,” he yielded through clinched teeth. It was never a wise idea to challenge Mammon. The eldest and wisest, she reigned over Hell like its clandestine queen and had ample support to back her autonomy. Sighing heavily, Asmodeus caught the eye of Maurice who stood silently by the entrance. “Take Belphegor to the guestroom and see that he stays put.”

Maurice nodded and wordlessly escorted the quiet prince away. Asmodeus watched them leave. He had seen his brother distraught often enough but this degree of petulant apathy was unparalleled even for the young demon of sloth. Though he was loathed to admit it his heart ached with pity. “How many times does this make now, Mammon?”

“I’ve lost count.” Anger managed to break through his sister’s mask. Her slender fingers curled forward until they resembled claws while she shook them vigorously as if she was imagining throttling the breath from some poor creature. “I should have killed Gabriel when I had the chance! It would have saved us all a lot of trouble.”

Asmodeus was surprised by her malice but he had to admit the idea had crossed his own mind when the traitor appeared in Hell without a scrap of remorse. That fact that he had been there to offer his support during the war had made Asmodeus bristle with contempt. “Belphegor would have been inconsolable.”

“More so than he is now?”

Asmodeus shrugged, his patience wearing thin. “He’s beyond reason when it comes to that rat.”

“I should have never allowed the archangels into Hell. It stirred up too many unpleasant memories for him, memories that I had hoped had been long forgotten,” Mammon muttered bitterly. “I’m afraid he will always be unhappy with his lot in life no matter what we do to ease his burden.”

“It was his choice to fall, sister. There’s nothing you can do to make up for that.”

“He fell because he believed Gabriel would come with him,” she snapped. “Now I’ve missed my chance to slay him for he will never set foot in Hell again. Our only option now is to take care of Belphegor.”

“Best be careful,” Asmodeus innocuously commented. “One might view your banishing of prince from Hell only to foster him off onto another as an act overextending your princely jurisdiction.”

Their eyes met for a dangerous moment. “Is this something you truly wish to pursue, Asmodeus? I do not baulk at the thought of a second war.”

Asmo wisely kept his silence. He was not a bloodthirsty demon by nature and the recent war had bestowed upon him enough gore and savagery to last him the next several centuries. So even if Mammon’s arrogance irritated him, he allowed it. There were more important things to worry about anyway.

“It appears as though that human of yours’ is actually teaching you some manners,” Mammon commented, one of her dark brows raised. “That’s a pleasant surprise. Belphegor will stay here until I see that he is fit resume his duties in Hell. In the meantime he will not be permitted to leave the premises of your land without your verbal consent, and Astaroth will guard Belphegor’s kingdom as his regent.”

Asmodeus had to scoff at that. While he thought Astaroth a dutiful duke, his pervasive gentleness made him a dubious candidate for a regent. “It was a good thing that Belphegor’s kingdom is of no great concern.”

After the demons took their leave, curiosity caused Asmodeus to steal a quick glance into the previously unused guestroom. There was a lump in the middle of the bed beneath a plentiful pile of soft blankets and colorful quilts, leading Asmodeus to assume his brother was hiding somewhere under there. He lifted one end of the cocoon tentatively only to have big wet blue eyes stare back at him.

“Get some rest, little one,” Asmodeus murmured, carelessly dropping the covers back and straightening up. He started a fire in the hearth to warm the room and summoned a couple of books on the nightstand in case Belphegor wished to read if his mood lightened. More likely than not, his brother would only scoff at his choice of literature and continue to sulk in the darkness of his nest while his strength gradually returned.

“It’s been centuries since you last called me that,” whispered the wistful voice from the bed.

There was a bitter pang in his heart but he was quick to recover with a halfhearted joke. “And you haven’t grown since.” Asmodeus dropped his hand where he knew his brother’s head to be and rubbed, deliberately rustling his frowzy curls. There was a low growl of irritation. “Stay in here and be quiet. Thomas isn’t feeling well.”

Belphegor’s warm feelings towards Thomas and his own melancholy kept his otherwise derisive tongue still for once. Asmodeus departed after instructing him to let Maurice know if he was in need of anything thing and returned to Thomas. He stripped in the quiet darkness of their chamber while gauging his sleeping lover. The blush of youth was slowly returning to the apples of his cheeks and his breathing was once more deep and even. Asmodeus carefully slipped into bed and rested his head on his lover’s chest, closing his eyes to focus of the steady beat of his heart. He didn’t expect arms to wrap around him or slender fingers to play so gently with his hair. He melted into the warm body beneath his and peppered Thomas’ chest with soft kisses as he breathed in his scent. He was beyond thankful that he still could.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he softly spoke after a moment when the ache in his throat receded enough. Thomas hummed drowsily in reply as sleep refused to give up the boy. “I’m glad you did.”

“How are you feeling, my love?”

“Better.”

“I’m afraid we’re going to have a guest stay with us a while.”

“All right,” Thomas replied softly. His fingers were restless for several minutes and Asmodeus adored enjoyed the gentle touches. Eventually the absentminded caresses paused as sleep returned but this time Asmodeus was able to join his lover.


	7. Chapter 7

The precarious situations Thomas would indubitably find himself in upon rousing differed vastly from when he was a priest. With the demon of lust as his habitual bedmate, the realization that waking up unbothered would no longer be a possibility was speedily made. Today was no different. He lounged upon the plush mattress, hovering in the serene twilight between sleep and sentience, as his lover pampered his skin with kisses. Then unexplainable warmth pulsed from deep within tissue and sinewy. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation but it caused Thomas to squirm as raspy giggles bubbled in his throat. Asmodeus paused halfway down Thomas’ lean sternum, a trace of a grin on his mouth, as his lovers’ hands stirred from the bed.

“Naughty imp,’ Thomas murmured, affectionately ruffling Asmodeus’ hair.

“It’s really not what you think” It was the truth although he could appreciate Thomas’ courteous skepticism. There really was no cause for Asmodeus to be nude while he knelt between his lover’s long legs, kissing and licking his merry way up and down that wonderfully lean body. A dowel would have been sufficient to purge the last of the poison, but he had no real desire to remove himself from their bed to hunt for one in his palace.

“Should I believe you this time?” Thomas’ voice was thick with sleepy accents. The poison’s soporific effect was too strong for him to ignore even if the majority of it was gone.

“You ought to always believe me.” Asmodeus tenderly nipped the rosy nub of a nipple that had been ignored for far too long. Thomas squawked in indignation. Had Thomas possessed the strength Asmodeus believed he would have been kicked from the bed for his effrontery. He relented almost immediately, choosing to lap gingerly at the mistreated flesh instead. It earned him a happy sigh from his lover and then a husky chuckle when warm flesh began to tickle. He pulled back, cupped his mouth discreetly, and spit the viscous toxin into his palm where it evaporated like mist.

“Why must you tickle me?”

“I don’t mean to but it cannot be helped, my lovely. The potion I gave you was rudimentary at best. This is the only way to ensure your recovery.” Thomas made a sound akin to a disgruntled whimper as though he didn’t wish to be reminded of his encounter with Belial. More kisses were employed to placate his lover. “But seeing this is my third, possibly the fourth, pass over you, the poison is all but gone now.” He traced Thomas’ belly button with the tip of his tongue. “I’m simply being facetious.”

The flat plane of skin and muscle beneath Asmodeus’ lips quivered as Thomas scoffed inelegantly, too weak to gather the strength to laugh. Asmodeus racked his teeth blithely over the bony protrusion of his lover’s hips before following the tender seam between abdomen and thigh towards his groin stippled with crisp blond curls. Sickness rendered his cock limp despite sufficient stimulation, but Asmodeus was not discouraged and paid his lover’s lank length the same attention he bestowed upon every other inch of the beautiful body spread out beneath him.

“Hopefully it will not be too long until I’m able to function accordingly,” Thomas dolefully commented. Even still he swallowed a deep, shuddering breath when he felt his lover warm hand smooth over his scrotum, cupping the slack pouch of skin with the upmost gentleness with long restless fingers.

“There’s no rush,” Asmodeus purred. Though his own cock was hard and wanting he wasn’t remotely interested in forgoing such lovely affection or such a compliant lover in favor of seeing to his own carnal needs. If Thomas allowed him touch and kiss to his heart’s desire without a peep of objection or a self-conscious blush to stain his smooth cheeks then he would do so until his lips dried and fingertips crackled. “You’re absolutely delectable this way.”

Tiny shudders racked his body, curling his toes and making his voice catch in his throat when he felt Asmodeus’ fingers stroke the puckered flesh between his buttocks. The vigorous activities the day before had left him tender to the touch, but embarrassment kept his discomfort unvoiced. A quietly whispered spell fanned Asmodeus’ warm breath across his skin and the sensitivity vanished as though it had never been there at all. Thomas relaxed against the mattress, feeling as limp as a wet noddle.

“Never be ashamed to tell me what you need, Thomas.” This was a frequently visited discussion between the lovers for the former priest always bulked at the idea of speaking with such candor. Some words will always be vulgar no matter how discreetly phrased. “I’m a demon. Not a mind reader.”

Thomas’ cheeks began to burn. “Carry on, sir,” he said and was deeply appreciative that the demon continued his downward trek.

Asmodeus finally drew out the last drop of poison that had found a home in the heel of Thomas’ left foot, and was pleased to find him fairly lucid in the end. The glassy luster was gone from his eyes, and his body was no longer debilitated by weakness. The order to turn over into his side was obediently followed. Asmodeus came to rest behind him. An arm hitched about the other’s waist, he pressed their bodies tightly together as his mouth sought out the tempting patch of skin on the nape of Thomas’ neck with their legs intimately entangled. Thomas’ hum of contentment sounded like music to Asmodeus. Then, quite unexpectedly, the growl of an empty stomach could be heard between the rustling bedclothes and their labored breaths.

Thomas pulled back, mortified. “I must be hungry.”

Asmodeus chuckled, a smile stretching his mouth wide. “Then we shall eat.”

Dinner was met with very little fanfare. Thomas was pleasantly surprised to find his demon, given his predilection for luxury, willing to appear in the candlelit dining room simply attired for the evening. For once Thomas was spared the demon’s pleas to dress him in ridiculous brocade or an embroidered velveteen frock coat with matching britches as he was wont to do every evening. While he still felt a lingering malaise that he assumed would only fade with time hunger and the desire to get out of bed was enough motivation for Thomas to make the long walk to the dining hall with Asmodeus’ help.

Modest dishes for the early dinner were arranged upon the long mahogany table, and Maurice lingered in the corner ready to serve. A normal household would be unable to prepare a feast – no matter how simple – at such a brief notice but the demons were crafty with their magic.

Thomas couldn’t help but notice the third table setting when he sat down. “Are we to have a guest tonight?”

“Belphegor.” Asmodeus waited for comprehension to dawn in Thomas’ eyes, but it never did. “He’ll be staying with us here for a bit.”

“Oh.” Thomas drank deeply from his cup of water. “Why do I have the feeling you’ve already told me of this?”

Asmodeus tried to stifle his laughter to save his lover’s pride however a grin managed to wiggle free. “I did but you were napping.”

If Thomas was curious about the indolent younger brother’s sudden holiday, he never had a chance to question Asmodeus when Belphegor skulked into the dining room. He was garbed in deeply furrowed but clean attire while his turbulent black curls expertly hid the tiny horns adorning his smooth brow, a seemed more pauper than prince. Belphegor flung himself into his chair without a word. Asmodeus looked torn between exasperation and amusement. His brother’s customary derision had returned with vigor, and the vicissitude would have been worrisome had he not been expecting it. “You’ll have to excuse my brother, Thomas. He hates waking up.”

That earned him a baneful glare from the bleary-eyed halfling. “Good afternoon,” he murmured sardonically.

Thomas smiled gently, acquainted with Belphegor’s cantankerous mood, and returned the greeting. Maurice stepped forward and quietly began to serve them. A large bowl of white soup and several slices of buttered bread made Thomas doubt his ability to enjoy the rest of the hardy fares. Belphegor seemed to be experiencing the same trouble and idly spooned his own bowl without much relish.

Thomas cleared his throat when the persisting silence struck him as odd. He might be sick but he wasn’t rude. “Belphegor, how long do you plan on staying with us?”

“Asmo’s better suited to answer that question,” returned the younger demon glumly.

“He’ll be here indeterminately,” Asmodeus interjected when his lover turned his blue eyes towards him. “He’s feeling rather unwell.”

A mean smirk twisted Belphegor’s mouth. “I threw myself from a tower. I’m depressed, Asmo, not an invalid.”

The clatter of a silver spoon dropping onto the tabletop disrupted the tense exchange. Belphegor regarded Thomas through his dark lashes. His fingers were half curled as if he was still clutching his spoon but they trembled ever so slightly as he stared back at Belphegor. There was genuine sympathy in his eyes and not the detestable pity the demon had come to expect before Thomas was looking away and muttering an apology for being so ham-fisted.

“You’re certainly full of spleen tonight, Belphegor,” Asmodeus declared, assuming his brother’s curt speech had come as an unneeded shock to Thomas. There was a chilling warning in his face that left Belphegor with little desire to act upon his impudence. “Let’s have a little more tact, shall we?”

“Fine,” he said by way of an apology.

“You threw yourself from a tower?” Thomas looked deeply upset and his glassy eyes threatened tears. “Are you all right?”

“Fit as a fiddle. It’s awfully hard to kill a demon, Thomas. I ought to now, but you’re looking a pinch off color. What’s the matter?”

“I-I’m afraid we had an unfortunate run in with Belial while abroad.”

Belphegor grimaced. “He’s a nasty piece of work. What did he want with you?”

“To stir up trouble. What else? Now stop spoiling dinner with such talk, Belphegor.”

The rest of dinner passed with civil words exchanged sparsely. For all his charm Asmodeus couldn’t wheedle a conversation from his glum brother or his pensive lover so he eventually gave up. Once the dessert trays had been halfheartedly picked at dinner had come to a much awaited end. Thomas stood with relief for he had grown bored shuffling the crumbs of his cannoli around on his plate. He gladly took Asmodeus’ arm and the trio removed themselves from the room.

“We’ve cards in the sitting room if you wish to play a game of faro, Belphegor,” Asmodeus mentioned which made his brother perk up almost immediately.

“Go on ahead,” Thomas interjected politely. His mind felt as though it was thousand miles away and he was hopeful for a moment alone with Asmodeus. “I’ve sat too long. A walk in the conservatory will do me some good I think.” 

If this subtle message gave Asmodeus a cause to be concerned he kept it well hidden. He winked at Thomas then bade his brother to retire to the sitting room without them for the moment before the couple strolled towards the glass and iron conservatory in the back of the mansion. It was their own corner of paradise in the wintery gloom of Brighton, and the only area where Thomas didn’t fault his lover’s overindulgence when it came to decorating. Beautifully kept flowers and vegetation crowded the plots and hung from the ceiling in large terra cotta pots. Asmodeus often joked that their garden would be the envy of King Nebuchadnezzar and Thomas wondered how much truth there was behind his words and charming smile.

They took a slow turn about the humid chamber. Thomas took solace in the natural beauty around them as his mind wondered back to what Levia had revealed to him so many months ago. Asmodeus patiently awaited the moment Thomas was ready to unburden his troubled mind, and did not rush him.

“When I had stayed by your side all those days as you recovered from the war, Levia was often my companion,” Thomas spoke tentatively. “She told me the story of your fall from heaven and the key role that Belphegor played is saving the lives of all the princes. I don’t wish to pry, you may stop me if I am, but is that cause of his grief?”

Asmodeus nodded slowly. “I believe she must have left out the part of my brother’s involvement with Gabriel. They were mates in Heaven, completely inseparable. Gabriel was supposed to join us in our rebellion but chose to become a traitor. By exposed our plans, he was granted a new title and we were thrown out of heaven never to return. They have been parted ever since and while I had held on to the hope that Belphegor would eventually forget his attachment to that bastard, he has done the opposite.”

“You act as though this unhappy situation is nothing new, Asmo.”

“Because it isn’t, and once more I find myself without patience for his plight as shameful as that is to admit to you, Thomas. His resentment is a crutch, yet if he would but opens his damned eyes he’d learn that there are others who care for him far better than Gabriel ever could.”

“You’re referring to his family?”

“Yes, and then there’s also the matter of his duke. I’ve a good inkling that Astaroth has been madly in love with him for centuries, but he’s too meek and Belphegor’s too self-centered for the match to be feasible. Nevertheless we’ve other issues to discuss, Thomas. I hope you mean to tell me why you were so distracted at dinner. Are you still feeling poorly?”

“I’m fine, Asmo. I need a bit more time to gather my thoughts.” The demon went obediently silent once more. “I’ve been thinking that perhaps some things Belial said were true. Not all of course, but enough to make me think.” The demon huffed in irritation but said nothing. “I realize that I’ve been so caught up in the excitement of my new life I haven’t shared much about my past with you, and I feel like you’ve made the same unintentional error. So I wish to tell you a story if I may?”

“I’m listening, darling.”

Thomas swallowed thickly and for one brief moment he was afraid that his courage had forsaken him. “When I was a seminarian in the  _Collegio Inglese_  in Rome I was well acquainted with a young man who, like your brother, attempted to take his own life due to an unforgettable remorse. It was a sorrowful affair to witness, and one that still haunts me to this day. So, Asmo, please treat your brother with care and love while he mends under our roof. He deserves it.”


End file.
